


These Hands I Wash of Sin

by MisLuminous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, Declarations Of Love, Fingerfucking, M/M, Prostitution, Rimming, Self-Esteem Issues, Top Castiel, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, eventual destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:18:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2035188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisLuminous/pseuds/MisLuminous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Three dollars and thirty-four cents. </p><p>Dean runs a hand through his hair. It's simply not enough. Dad might come home tomorrow and he might come home in a week. Regardless, they need more money to get them at least through till the weekend to be on the safe side. Dean's stomach churns unpleasantly. Fuck."</p><p> </p><p>Or where Dean will do whatever it takes for his little brother to have a somewhat normal childhood, even if means getting his knees dirty and causing him to doubt there is such a thing as love during sex. Until a certain angel knocks down his walls in more than a literal sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I've posted this before, but I deleted my account trying to swear off all fanfiction so I could focus on school. And voila, I am now a graduate with all the time in the world to devote to ao3!! You know, besides when I have that thing called work. Keep an eye out for some of my other older Fics, as well as some shiny new ones. Enjoy!

Eight days. Eight days had passed since dad was supposed to be home from chasing a lead on demons. The motel owner of where Dean and Sam are staying is starting to get suspicious, and Dean really hopes it doesn't come to the point where he has to grab Sammy and their few possessions and book it before Child Services shows up. He figures they have about four more days before they should leave.

Dean is currently folding clothes that he washed earlier in the sink with some of the motel's soap he swiped from another room while the couple was gone. He can't risk having the maid come in to restock their own toiletries, so he's saving the little they have of their own for showers. As he folds a pair of Sam's jeans that are already too short for him, Dean can't help but curse his dad while at the same time hoping he's okay.

"Do ya need help?" Sam asks from where he's lounging on a bed upside down, letting his head hang and the blood rush to his face. He has the T.V. on, but Dean can't imagine he's watching anything from that angle. Besides, from what he can hear there's a soap opera on which Sam would never be caught dead watching.

"Nah," Dean replies. "I'm almost done anyways."

Sam awkwardly rolls off the bed, his growing legs flailing slightly as he tries to arrange them underneath him. He's going through a freaky growth spurt and as soon as Sam gets used to his long arms and gangly legs, they start to stretch even more out of control. He seems to be in a constant state of surprise at his own limbs. Dean swears Sam must be some kind of supernatural freak who can't stop growing. Dean isn't excited for the day when Sam will undoubtedly be taller than him.

"I'm gonna microwave some leftover Chinese. Want yours?" Sam asks.

"I'm not hungry, you go ahead and finish it off," Dean says. Sam needs it more anyways and really, Dean isn't very hungry. 

Sam strides over to the piss poor excuse of a kitchenette and Dean hears him shifting through the mini fridge and paper plates.

Dean sighs and goes over their budget in his head for the millionth time. They have $183.31. Normally Dean would be pretty proud of himself for having more than the usual amount leftover by the time dad gets back. But dad isn't back yet and there is no telling when he will be. Dean automatically sets aside $150 for another motel room in case they have to scram. That leaves $33.31. Lunch at school costs $5 at Sam's Jr. High and $8 at Dean's current High School. Dean immediately ticks off five dollars from the budget but leaves the eight; he can skip lunch tomorrow. Cafeteria food is shitty anyways. 

 

Then Sam needs to pay $20 for his science field trip. It's mandatory and even if it wasn't Dean would still scrounge up the money for him to go cause Sam wants to go and he loves that science crap. Three dollars and thirty-four cents. 

Dean runs a hand through his hair. It's simply not enough. Dad might come home tomorrow and he might come home in a week. Regardless, they need more money to get them at least through till the weekend to be on the safe side. Dean's stomach churns unpleasantly. Fuck.

Sam comes back to eat his dinner on the bed.

"Nuh-uh," Dean says, smacking Sam upside his head. "Eat at the table."

Sam scowls before stalking off to the table. Dean knows he hates being told what to do by his older brother, but he normally takes it like a champ. A champ with lots of attitude and smart-ass comments, but he's twelve so Dean can understand it.

"I'm gonna go out tonight," Dean announces, tossing Sam's folded clothes in his bag. "Gotta hustle some pool and play some poker so we have a little extra money for when dad gets back."

Sam scowls even more. "You shouldn't have to do that. Dad should be back when he freaking says he will be and act like a goddamn parent which means paying for us."

"Sammy..." Dean says in a warning tone, "don't fucking curse, it's a goddamn sin."

The two brothers grin at each other before Dean swipes an eggroll off Sam's plate.

"Hey, you jerk!" Sam cries, punching Dean in the hip from where he's seated.

"Bitch," Dean replies, flashing his award winning smile full of food.

"Ugh you're disgusting," Sam frowns.

"I'm adorable," Dean retorts, winking at Sam.

"Which bar are ya gonna go to? How do you even know they'll take your fake ID?" 

"Once you reach my age and lived with John as long as I have," Dean replies, "you learn the art of separating distinguished classy bars who have a lot to lose by servin' a minor between bars that are so trashy and in violation of so many goddamn codes that they don't have a lot to lose if they let some snot nosed kid in with a fake." 

Sam laughs before shoveling some fried rice in his mouth.

"Do you think by my birthday next month, I will be able to get away with a fake and go with you?" Sam asks hopefully.

"With the way you're growin' I wouldn't be surprised," Dean drawls. "But dad won't go for it. Even though you're a pool genius."

"I tried telling you, if you look at the angles and trajectories and take inertia into consideration..." Sam argues.

"Blah, blah, blah I get by winnin' pool playing just the way I do," Dean sings.

"You mean by cheating?" 

"In the life we live Sammy, cheating life's all we got cause we definitely can't cheat death."

*****

Sam is shuffling underneath his covers as Dean changes to go out. Instinctually, Dean knows Sam will notice if he's dressing too nice or looks like he's striving too hard to look attractive and make a remark about how Dean is skipping out on him just to bang some girl which would then lead to Sam telling on him to dad when he gets back. The kid is twelve years old, he's more than willing to sell Dean out for his own sick, brotherly amusement. 

So Dean zips his jacket all the way up to hide the tight t-shirt he's wearing and makes an effort to pull it down to cover how low his jeans are riding on his hips. Dean hopes the lack of light in the room will prevent Sam from noticing he's wearing his dark, nice-fitting jeans instead of one of his old pairs that dad handed down to him that are slightly too big.

He runs his hand through his slightly longer hair; his dad hasn't had a chance to cut his hair since he's only been back for a few days in between jobs. Supernatural crap must be in season, cause the most John's been able to stay with them is eleven days. Dean considered cutting his hair himself, but Melanie Carter in his English class said she liked his hair so vainly he left it. 

Dean gazes into the bathroom mirror that has an annoying crack going down the middle. His own face stares back at him; unruly dirty blonde hair, muddy-green eyes with ridiculous lashes, and full lips. Dean normally couldn't stand looking at himself in the mirror, cause his slightly...feminine looks always gave him trouble from either his dad or working a job. No one takes him seriously with his cheek bones and slender wrists and waist.

But Dean is thankful for his physique tonight cause tonight it's gonna get him some much needed cash. 

Dean slinks out of the bathroom and heads to the door.

"I left some emergency numbers by the phone on the nightstand," Dean says to Sam. "Anything happens, you know what to do. Don't stay up late and watch T.V. while I'm out, cause I'll know and I'll kick your ass cause we have school in the morning."

"Yeah, yeah I know," Sam waves Dean off.

Dean flips him the bird before he opens the door.

"Night Sammy!"

"Go make us some money you pimp," Sam says in return.

Dean pauses for a second in the doorway, but hearing Sam laugh and quip 'night' and Dean closes the door and heads out.

Shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, Dean fingers his fake ID and heads town the street towards "downtown." Downtown consisting of a McDonald's, a Chinese place owned by the most annoying white asshole Dean has ever met, two bars, and a gas station. Good thing about small shitty towns like this is that the bars generally couldn't care less about underage kids being out passed curfew or wandering into bars. Dean goes to the closest bar first, straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin. The key is to always be confident and no one will bother you and Dean is a cocky asshole.

The bar smells like cigarettes and warm beer. Dean is slightly surprised at how many people are there, though the crowd is definitely a lot older than himself. Going up to the bar, Dean flags down the waitress. She hobbles towards him and Dean slightly cringes. She's a woman who looks way older than her years with shorn purple hair and a sagging face and tits.

"What can I get you Hun?" She rasps out.

Dean is always slightly disappointed when they don't ID him. His fake is awesome.

"Cheapest beer you got," Dean replies.

She nods and leaves him to get his beer. Dean takes the moment to scope out a potential client. The men here are all old cowboys and Dean knows he stroke gold. The stereotypical ignorant bigot is usually where Dean finds the most closeted gay perverts. Dean leans against the bar so his hip juts out and slowly takes off his jacket, making a show of it in case anyone is watching him. 

The bartender returns with his beer and Dean nods in thanks. Tipping the beer down his throat, Dean drinks slowly and swallows hard so his Adam's apple bobs. Having a prop is important, and Dean full on intends on making this beer bottle his ticket into some guy's wallet. Licking his lips lazily, Dean's eyes are wide and bright in the smoky room as he gazes at nothing in particular. He licks his lips again to keep them slightly wet before drinking his beer again.

A man from across the room is staring at him.

Well, that was fast.

Dean flashes a crooked smile that he knows is sexy and jerks his head to the door leading outside. The man nods and knocks down the rest of his beer before setting it down. Dean finishes off his own beer before setting some cash on the bar and heading outside. Once the cool breeze hits him, Dean shrugs off his jacket as he casually walks to a small alleyway by the bar. Dean can hear the John walking a few feet behind him, and once Dean reaches the end of the alleyway he he grabbed by the shoulder and roughly turned around.

"How much?" the man asks gruffly. 

"Depends on whatcha want," Dean croons.

"Suck me off n' I'll give ya thirty."

"No way," Dean scoffs. "Sixty and we gotta deal."

The man barks a laugh. "Them pretty lips alright, but I ain't payin' sixty for them. Tell yer what, I'll pay you forty n' then I can send two more guys back here."

Dean pauses and thinks it over. If he can wrestle at least thirty from this guy and his two buddies, that's ninety dollars. Dean feels slightly sick but keeps his cocky grin plastered on his face.

"Deal."

The man wastes no time shoving Dean onto his knees, and Dean sincerely hopes he's not kneeling in piss or shit. Dean unzips the man's jeans and tugs them and his underwear just low enough to grab his dick out. Jesus, this guy is already hard as a rock and dripping everywhere. Gross.

But Dean leans forwards and takes it in his mouth like a pro. He swirls his tongue around the crown slowly, before taking it deep into his mouth and hollowing out his cheeks. These guys normally don't appreciate a show, they usually want to fuck his face as fast as they can, shoot their load, then get the fuck out of there.

The man above him groans and begins thrusting his hips forward. "Such a pretty, pretty mouth. Nice and pink from sucking my cock, you love it don't you? Them's cocksuckin' lips boy."

Dean rolls his eyes before grabbing the guy's hips in order to not fall over. The man is thrusting deep into his mouth now and Dean relaxes his throat and tries not to sneeze when his nose breathes into the man's pubic hair. He smells like sweat and booze but he's clean so Dean supposes it could be worse.

"Ugh look at you, you whore. Sucking my dick like it's the last- guh- last thing you do! Take it you slut, fuckin' take it!"

The mans hips start snapping forward frantically and Dean's eyes are watering from the force but also from trying not to laugh with a cock in his mouth at the guys retarded attempts at dirty talk. Dean knows the guy is close, so he moans loudly around the cock in his mouth like he's a fucking porn star, and that's it. The guy stutters before thrusting his hips forward one last time and explodes in Dean's mouth. Dean quickly releases the man and turns his head to the side to spit. 

Panting above him the man takes out a beat up leather wallet and shoves fifty dollars down Dean's pants. He then winks at him before slinking off.

"Stay there n' I can send a few guys out who'd be interested," he tosses over his shoulder.

Dean nods as he wipes his jeans and tries to straighten his hair from when the man got carried away and pulled on it. Fifty dollars, not bad. In the very far back reaches of his mind, Dean wonders if the ache in his jaw and the bitter aftertaste of junk in his mouth is worth it. 

Dean barely has time to check his watch for the time before he sees three men heading towards him. Inwardly panicking, Dean frantically shakes his head before raising his hands to the men.

"Look fellas, when your pal told me two more guys," Dean emphasizes the two, "I didn't realize he meant at the same time. I'm not into that shit."

One of the men leers before slapping Dean across his face. Hard.

"A good little whore keeps her pretty mouth shut," he hisses.

Dean is in no way gonna take being referred to as a girl and he is definitely not gonna be raped by these three assholes.

"Well what're you waiting for? Just to warn ya though, I can hurt you all very, very badly," Dean says, forming his mouth into a arrogant smirk.

"That right?" the tallest man in the group with blonde hair says. "Well I don't know about you fellas," he says motioning to his buddies, "but I sure do like them sluts. Makes it all the better when they cry. Such a pretty face to be all wet with tears and cum."

Dean throws the first punch. 

The man curses and throws his own fist while his friends try to grab Dean and hold him down. But Dean has the advantage of being smaller and quicker and a lot more at stake than these assholes. He twists and pulls away from grabbing hands all the while punching any wall of flesh that comes into his vision while keeping an eye out for a gap he can squeeze through so he can get the hell outta there.

"You all are fucking perverted, creepy ass losers! I bet you all have wives laying in bed right now who have no idea-" Dean mentally cheers as his he feels one of their noses break under his fist,"no idea that their husbands are fags!" 

Dean can run his mouth with the best of them, but they are normally what get him in so much trouble. With renewed vigor, one of the men with long brown hair manages to grab Dean's arm and throw him into the wall. Dean feels his head bounce against the brick and for a second he sees stars. Probably the only beautiful thing he's seen all night besides Sammy back at the motel room.

The blonde sneers into his ear, his breath reeking of whiskey and weed. "You are gonna fuckin' pay you little bitch!"

Dean's face is dragged down the wall till he's flat on his belly, scraping at his skin and burning until Dean feels blood running down. He wriggles his arms that are being pinned behind his back and angrily thinks that there's no way this bullshit is worth any kind of money. He feels his jeans being tugged down, and Dean thanks god that he's wearing tight jeans that can't simply be slipped over his hips. A hands reaches under him, grazing his groin, and Dean flips out.

Kicking his legs out and twisting his torso, Dean manages to roll out of their grasp while only breaking a wrist. Acting quickly, Dean snatches the knife he keeps strapped on his ankle. Flashing his knife towards them and with his eyes bright with adrenaline and anger, Dean lets out a wolffish smile.

"You sons of bitches lay your hands on me, it will be the last fucking thing you'll ever do," Dean says with a dangerously low voice.

"You think you can stick all three of us with that 'lil thing?" long haired freak laughs.

Dean straightens and with a dead serious look on his face replies,

"I know for a fact I can gank all of you in less than two minutes but if you wanna test that then go ahead. It's your fucking life." 

The men look unsure and glance between themselves before seemingly coming to a decision. 

"Yer not worth it, not that purty anyways with all that blood on yer face," the blonde man says turning around.

"Wait!" Dean snarls. "First give me all your money, or I'll go to the police and tell them how you three jumped me in the street and tried to gang rape me."

"Boy they'll never believe you! One glance at yer face and they'll know yer a lying whore."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "I am still underage so I am in a way better position than you creeps."

The men scowl darkly before one of them digs cash out of pocket and throws it at Dean's feet. The other two soon follow suit. Dean stares darkly at them them before gesturing to them with his knife.

"Now get the fuck out of here."

"We'll get you boy, we will fucking get you and when we do you will wish you were never born," the blonde hisses.

"Wow, did you think of that evil sayonara all night? I am shaking in my boots," Dean laughs.

The men just glare one more time before stalking back to the street. Dean waits until they're gone before bending down to gather the cash. Slowly counting it, Dean smiles. Overall, $512. Add that to the $183.31 and the fifty from the blowjob, that's a total of $745.31. More than enough to last him and Sammy a while. Shit, Dean can probably buy Sam some jeans that actually fit instead of him wearing Dean's old things. Dean casually wonders if he should make mugging a professional hobby. It's way more he has ever made in a night than when he's doing disgusting things with men that he doesn't even want to do.

But no, Dean is no criminal. Well he is, but not like that. While those dicks deserved what they got, Dean didn't deserve to have to go through almost being raped then even resorting to almost having to kill someone. 

Dean dabs his jacket at the abrasion on his face before shrugging it on and leaving the ally. He keeps his knife out the entire walk back to the motel, and doubles back a few times and walks down unnecessary blocks in case those pervs tried to follow him. When Dean finally reaches the motel room, it is almost two in the morning. Dean groans at the thought of school tomorrow, but he's already skipped too much to risk it again. Sam is asleep, and Dean can't help but thank his lucky stars that he made it back to him. Dean always warns Sam to be safe and stay close, but Dean is now hit with a sense of awareness of how shitty things would be for Sam if something happened to him. It was a close call tonight.

Dean silently goes to the bathroom and chucks off his jeans and t-shirt. Examining his face, Dean reaches for the first aid kit and dabs the wound with peroxide before deciding it's not bad enough for a bandage. It's more like a serious case of rug burn. The bruises on the other hand, are really fucking sore. Dean didn't realize how beat up he got during the struggle, they literally cover his body. He's even got a pretty brutal shiner goin' on. Grabbing some medical wraps, Dean carefully binds up his broken wrist, wincing at the pain. Dean decides to just tell Sam that a drunk sore loser roughed him up a bit after a game.

Turning off the bathroom light after rigorously brushing his teeth, Dean crosses into the room. The moon shines between the shades and patterns of light streak across the beds. Dean hesitantly looks towards his own bed before deciding fuck it, Sam can deal and crawls into bed with Sam.

"Dean?" Sam mutters sleepily.

"I'm back," Dean whispers roughly. He didn't realize how gruff his voice sounded after all the yelling tonight.

"Everything okay?" Sam asks hesitantly. He reaches his fingers to Dean's face and gently prods his battle wounds.

"Just a rough night," Dean grumbles.

"Mmkay," Sam replies before slipping his eyes back shut.

And that's it.

Sam never questioned when Dean climbed into his bed and Dean never questioned it when Sam climbed into his bed. It was a silent truce that didn't happen often but when it did, both boys just accepted the other and then ignored it when morning came. 

Dean sighs happily before sinking further into his pillow and blinking his eyes shit. It was a shitty night and he's sore as hell, but it the end he made $562 and tomorrow after school he is buying his Sasquatch brother some new fucking jeans and some new shades for himself because dammit, he earned them.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean is almost positive that there are worse things that could be happening to him right now. He could be getting gutted by werewolf or on the business end of a vampire. He could be watching helplessly as Sam gets thrown into a wall by a demon or his dad knocked out by a vengeful spirit. He could be four years old standing in the hallway smelling the burning flesh of his mom dying again. Dean's stomach turns over with guilt and disgust at himself while his ass aches as the fifty-something year old man pounds into it.

"You like that? You like that you whore? You'll take anything in your ass, you loved being filled up don't you? You want my fat cock breaking your pretty ass cheeks into two don't you?"

Dean swore he would never take it this far; hell, Dean could swear up and down the Bibles lined up in a pew that nothing would ever get near his asshole unless it was something stupid like, a boyfriend or whatever. Then again, Dean supposes most Churches don't want you swearing your asshole virtue to a nice guy who might come along and sweep you off your feet then marry you. Besides, the term boyfriend makes Dean feel slightly sick and a hell of a lot of uncomfortable and when Dean tries to imagine bringing a boy home to meet his dad he can only huff down a laugh at the thought of what a fucking disaster that would be. Dean can't even bring home a girl without John freaking out about the implications of Dean having a stable, normal relationship with someone outside the family.

Dean groans as the man behind him changes his angle slightly and gets deeper. The dirty bathroom counter is digging into Dean's gut and it digs harshly into his hip bones every time he is thrusted forwards. His hands grip into fists, occasionally scrambling to find purchase on the cracked porcelain. Sometimes, Dean finds his cock having a mind of its own and filling up and prodding his belly without his permission. Dean guesses having your prostate nailed so many times does that to a guy, even though the straggly haired man leaning over him with some serious acne scars is a far cry from arousing. 

Dean doesn't mind being bent over a counter though, cause this means he doesn't have to look at the man's face.

The guy starts breathing faster, hips snapping forward faster and deeper with no real rhythm. 

"Better pull out dude," Dean reminds him through clenched teeth.

Usually Dean refuses anything near his ass without a condom but this guy paid an extra sixty dollars beforehand to go bareback. Dean can only hope he keeps his word about pulling out.

The man thrusts a few more times before suddenly pulling out. Dean gasps slightly at the sudden feel of emptiness before the man is pulling Dean around and rubbing his cock out in his face. Spurts of cum shoots out, coating Dean's face. Dean keeps a straight face even though mentally he's complaining about having to wash junk out of his hair and eyelashes now.

The man's breath starts to even out before he tucks himself in and zips up. Pulling a wad of cash out, he counts out a few bills.

"Here's one hundred doll," the man says, slapping the cash on the counter besides Dean.

Dean quickly gathers it in his hands, counting through it twice before nodding and slipping it in his jeans pocket.

"Thanks for the ride," the man winks before staggering out.

Dean turns to the sinks to wash his face and hair. The dull ache is persistent in his ass, but it wasn't too bad. Dean was already loosened up from the tattooed motherfucker earlier in the night so Dean guesses that counts as prep. The water comes out icy cold and is barely a dribble but Dean splashes his face anyways. Running his wet fingers through his hair, Dean finishes and drys his face with the hem of his shirt. 

Picking up his jacket off the floor, Dean saunters outside into the biting cold and walks back to the motel. He barely limps.

The motel room light is on and Dean groans. That means Sam is awake and Dean does not want to deal with any questions about his night. He told Sam he got a temporary job on the docks where they load fish late at night. The story sounds like bullshit even to Dean, but Sammy turns the other cheek. Sam has made slight hints in conversation that he knows Dean is doing something illegal for money he just doesn't know what yet. Probably thinks he's selling dope. 

The important thing though, is Sam keeps it to himself and hasn't mentioned anything to John because Sam won't talk to him if he can help it and he has this weird saving Dean complex where he doesn't want John to have any part of it.

Dean slowly walks into the motel room making sure he is standing tall and his slight limp isn't so pronounced. Sam looks up from where it looks like he's doing homework. Or more likely some research for John. They've been left behind on this hunt because John said he needed Sam and Dean to lie low and keep him updated on what they learn about hydras since he's never encountered one before. Dean wishes John would just admit that he's scared of his boys confronting something he's never seen before and wants them to stay far away and safe.

"How was work?" Sam asks in a clipped tone.

"Fine," Dean says shortly while making his way to the bathroom. God he wants a shower.

"Must be hard work, lifting heavy pounds of fish every night," Sam remarks.

Dean pauses in the doorway. He doesn't like the smart ass tone Sam is using. It seems to be Sam's default tone these days when he's talking to either him or John. That, or he talks to Dean like he's stupid. That enrages Dean way more than Sam's sass because who does Sam think he is? Dean is not fucking stupid just cause he barely graduated high school and opt to not go to college which wasn't really a decision to make in the first place.

"Yeah, it's been a long night," Dean says carefully.

"Why you limping?"

"Got my foot caught in some netting and fell over. Must've twisted my ankle," Dean lies smoothly. 

Sam rolls his eyes and turns back to his books and notepad. "Whatever."

Dean closes the bathroom door and turns on the shower. Jesus, when did Sammy turn into such a spiteful little brat? Everything is a confrontation with him and everything's a fight. It's even worse with dad, so Dean guesses he should be thankful that his relationship with Sam hasn't sunk that low, but still. Dean misses the easy jesting and conversations of his eleven year old brother. Dean guesses it must be a teenager thing, though Dean can't remember being that moody himself when he was sixteen. 

The shower is as hot as it will go and Dean wastes no time scrubbing his entire body pink with the bar of soap. He scrubs particularly hard between his legs, then reaches behind himself to clean up inside him. He gently eases his soapy fingers in and out, rinsing hot clean water over his hole over and over till the feel of dicks being pressed up against him fades. 

Dean cleans his face and hair with harsh vigor before turning the shower off and stepping out. He wraps his towel around his waist and reaches for his toothbrush, determined to erase the two cocks from earlier out of the crevices of his mouth.

Dean scored three jobs today; two ass fuckings and two blowjobs. The tattooed guy who wanted to fuck and for Dean to suck him off paid him almost $200. These days, Dean would've taken less but hell, he won't tell the John that.

Dean walks out of the bathroom, only to find Sam staring at him smugly. That can't be good.

"What?" Dean snaps.

"Dad finally called," Sam replied. "He's on his way home now. Should be here in the morning."

"Fucking finally," Dean sighs. They've been without dad for almost four weeks now.

"Guess you can quit the fishing job now," Sam drawls out sarcastically.

"What is your problem?" Dean asks angrily as he shoves his legs into a pair of sweats. 

"My problem is you going off into the night working sketchy jobs so we have money when dad doesn't come back when he says he is!" Sam shouts.

"Working the docks isn't sketchy Sammy," Dean replies.

"Oh please Dean can we just drop the act? You're not working on the fucking docks and we both know it!" Sam shouts, slamming his pen into the table.

"You need to calm down Sam," Dean laughed. "What do you think I'm doing, selling crack?"

Sam visibly bristles at Dean's flippant attitude. Dean knows exactly how to get under his brother's skin and piss him off.

"I followed you to the rest stop Dean," Sam snarls.

Dean rolls his eyes. "Oh no, you caught me! I'm selling weed from the pot plant I carry around with me from town to town that I sell to truckers in rest stops!You're a regular fucking Sherlock."

Dean cracks open a beer he pulled out of the mini fridge, still smiling and shaking his head at Sam. Sam looks more unsure of himself.

"I, I saw you go to the rest stop. You didn't go to the docks."

"News flash Sam, I had to use the bathroom," Dean replies, smacking his lips.

Sam's face flushes and he looks down at the mustard stained carpet.

"Oh. Oh. I'm sorry Dean I thought-"

"It's okay Sam," Dean ruffles his hair as he passes him, "you're playing detective, it's cute."

"You're an idiot," Sam laughs, throwing his pen at Dean's head. 

Dean ducks before winking at Sam.

"No, I'm a genius."

******

Dad is finally back and so they all pile into the Impala to go out for dinner. It's sort of turned itself into a tradition: dad gets back from a job alive so they go out for dinner. Dean remembers when he was a kid and they were at a Coco's and when the depressed, monotone waitress asked them if there was something they were celebrating tonight, Dean thrusted his hands in the air and shouted, "we're alive!" Dad hit him in the back of his head and the waitress just shook her head sadly like she couldn't believe how shitty her life is to have to deal with life cherishing thirteen year olds.

Now they are at a backwoods diner called Cheesy Charlie's and ain't that promising. Sam glares at the greasy menu like he wishes he could be anywhere but here while John sips at his coffee reading all the out of states licenses the joint has on their walls. Dean rips the end of his straw's paper cover and blows it at Sam, nailing him between the eyes.

"What are you, ten?" 

The waitress then pulls up, taking their orders. Dad and Dean order burgers and fries while Sam orders a grilled chicken sandwich. Dean swears the kid orders shit like that just to be different and it ticks Dean off.

"So a hydra huh," Dean asks.

"Yeah," dad sighs. "A fucking hydra like out of a goddamn Greek epic poem."

"How'd ya kill it?" Dean asks, intrigued as always. Sam huffs and looks away, trying to look like he isn't listening.

"Just like Hercules did in the story, burned it all to shit."

"Weird how there's all this lore that ends up being true and yet there are only a few folks that know it," Dean observes.

"Very deep Dean," Sam laughs.

Dean scowls at Sam, annoyed with his pissy attitude. Dean swears puberty didn't hit him this hard. Sipping his coffee, Dean almost chokes when he sees him. Oh fuck.

One of his Johns from last night is sitting three booths over, gazing over at Dean appreciatively. Dean's face reddens as he glances towards his dad and Sam. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Dad is gonna notice this creep staring at them and he's probably gonna flip out and assume it has something to do with the job and drag the guy outside waving his gun around or something. Dean panics and discretely slides his eyes back to the man. The dude is full on leering and then he raises his fingers in a slight hello. Dean jerks his head towards the door and stumbles out of his seat.

"Where you goin' son?" John asks.

"Erm, I just need some fresh air real quick just goin' around the block I'll be back in a minute," Dean rambles. He knows it's a shitty lie, but it will have to do. Dean prays his dad just takes this as another weird Dean thing and leaves him alone. Dean walks out of the diner as fast as he can without looking too suspicious.

The man is already outside when the fresh air hits Dean. He's smoking a cigarette and pulls out his pack and offers one to Dean. Dean doesn't smoke but he takes it so if John decides to follow him he has an excuse for why he left. John will kick his ass for smoking, but it's better than the truth.

Slowing inhaling the smoke, Dean's eyes water and his throat burns with the need to cough but Dean holds it in. He cuts right to the chase.

"I am here with my family so no funny business," Dean says as smoke leaves his mouth with every word. 

"Cute family," the guy drawls. "I'm guessin' they don't know you get paid to be a cocksucking whore."

"And it's gonna stay that way," Dean snaps.

He remembers this guy, he's the one who paid $200 for the whole package. Dean shivers slightly as he remembers how rough he was. His big arms are covered in tattoos and his face is shadowed with scruff. He's probably in his forties and he looks like he is in a fucking gang or something. He left bruises on Dean's hips last night.

"I'd be more quiet if there's somethin' distractin' me from blabbing," the man replies smirking.

Dean rolls his eyes, "yeah, yeah I get it. C'mon behind the diner. Let's make this quick."

Dean stamps out his cigarette even though he only smoked a third of it. They both stroll behind the diner before Dean shoves the man against the boarded up fence and drops to his knees. Dean unzips the guys jeans with his teeth, a nifty trick Dean learned over the years that seems to get him more money, before pulling the man's cock out.

Licking his lips, Dean slowly slides his mouth down the cock. Swirling his tongue and hollowing his cheeks, Dean beings bobbing his head.

"Yessss," the older man hisses, fisting Dean's hair.

Dean's tongues at the slit before running his lips down the shaft and taking him in again. Precome is leaking into Dean's mouth, and Dean has a hard time swallowing and lets his spit drool out of the corner of his mouth. The man suddenly yanks Dean up and twists him so he's the one against the fence. The man grabs Dean's jaw before thrusting his tongue into Dean's mouth, moaning dirtily.

Dean considers biting the man's tongue off, but he really, really doesn't want his dad to know his son has been selling himself on the streets because his dad can't leave them enough money when he goes away on jobs. His dad doesn't need the guilt and Dean doesn't want the shame.

The man starts pulling Dean's jeans and boxers down, wrapping his hand around Dean's cock. Dean is disappointed to find he's half hard and he can't help his hips from thrusting into the man's hand. The other man's fingers trail down the back of Dean's thigh, before dipping into the crease under Dean's ass. Slowly, one finger circles Dean's entrance before the guy manhandles Dean again till his face is against the fence. Dean feels the man's breath against his ass before his hands part Dean's cheeks and Dean feels something wet against his hole.

Dean yelps, but the man's large hands on Dean's hips keep his from moving. His tongue lavishes the tight ring of muscle before dipping in. Dean can't help the moans that escape him, no one has ever done this before. Tears of humiliation and disgust trail down Dean's face before he angrily wipes them away. The guy has two fingers in him now, twisting and thrusting which is painfully dry. 

"What the FUCK is going on here?!"

Dean barely has time to process the third voice before he hears the loud and painful clunk of metal hitting the man behind him. Dean quickly pulls his pants up before noticing the disturbance. 

His dad stands with an old metal pipe in his hands, eyes burning into Dean.

"Who is this old fuck? Don't you know he's too old for you?" John asks angrily, pulling Dean away from the unconscious man whose dick is still hanging out of his pants.

"Wha-" Dean asks dumbly before he realizes. "He's not my boyfriend or anything, Jesus dad."

John visibly relaxes before tightening up again. "What is going on here son?"

Dean's mouth gapes a bit before his features twist into something ugly and hateful. Fuck this, Dean thinks. He's only nineteen years old. He's been on his own with Sam for fifteen years, regardless of John being around. He does what he has to so Sam can have a semi normal childhood, so that they have decent food in the kitchen, so when one of them gets sick, Dean can go buy some medicine. There is no shame in taking care of your family, Dean thinks. So fuck this.

"FUCK THIS," Dean shouts. "I do what I have to to keep me and Sammy alive while you're off screwing around."

John stares at Dean, looks towards the general area of where the man is probably still lying unconscious, then back at Dean. His eyes widen in realization.

"Dean...Dean..." John murmurs, grabbing Dean by the jacket and pulling him to his chest.

Dean stares blankly, eyes burning but dammit Dean doesn't cry. His dad's arms crushes him close and he lifts one hand to the back of Dean's head.

"I don't want you ever, ever resorting to that again. I will leave five, eight times the amount of cash when I leave just please, please don't do this ever again."

Dean can hear the brokenness in his dad's voice and fuck, that's not what Dean wanted. He wants all this to fade away and none of it ever happened and he can just be back in the diner and take the guy further down the street where John wouldn't have found them. At the same time, a weight is lifted off his chest. Maybe he really won't have to suck another cock or take it up the ass again, unless it's someone he wants.

"I am so sorry Dean. I'm a shit dad. I'll do better, I promise."

Dean doubt his dad will suddenly strive for the dad of the year award, but it's a start. Dean rubs his eyes real quick and John shuffles his hair and they bump shoulders on their way back to the diner and Sam.

Dean doesn't work the street again.


	3. Chapter 3

They’re taking it slow. Castiel would consider it seven years slow, but he supposes their relationship did not move to the next "level" until Dean kissed him.

It started the second night in Carmichael, Ohio when Dean pushed Castiel up against the mini bar in their motel and kissed him senseless. Castiel responded enthusiastically and couldn't help an internal cheer thinking, 'finally!' The kiss is hot and needy and a little sloppy because neither Castiel nor Dean really knew what they were doing. Castiel tried thinking back to the pizza man and the babysitter to apply more technique, but his mind is racing and he can't think of anything except Dean, Dean, Dean. 

Castiel reaches his fingers underneath Dean's shirt, skimming his belly slightly. Dean jerks at the contact before sighing and leaning more into Cas. Castiel tries to remember what Sam told him about Dean; that Dean can't be pushed and that other thing about needs. He knows Dean's torrid past with men and relationships, Castiel knows everything about Dean's body and soul, so it is after this thought that Castiel reluctantly pulls away. What Dean needs is time and Sam said not to push.

Castiel doesn't pull away, but he loosens his grasp on Dean and leans back slightly and holds them both still and their breaths linger wet and hot between them until their pulses slow. 

"Dean," Castiel murmurs, "we can go slow."

Dean pauses for a second, uncertainty and relief mingling on his face before he flashes a grin and pulls Castiel back towards him.

"Okay Cas, okay."

****

So, they are talking it slow.

They kiss a lot, which is great.

They cuddle a lot too, which is definitely new. The personal space rule all but forgotten. Dean has actively avoided cuddling up to this point in his life and he's been almost entirely successful-with the exception of the night he discovered Irish car bombs and subsequently had to be carried back to the motel by his dad where he puked an impressive number of times in very interesting locations (Dean still can't imagine how the hell he got some on the light fixture on the bathroom ceiling) then promptly climbed into bed with a bitchy Sam, wrapping his arms and legs around him, and refused to move.

Dean finds that he doesn't really mind intertwining his limbs and torso around Castiel, in fact he actively seeks the angel's warmth. And he knows that Cas loves it. Loves it when Dean is sprawled over him and taking up the whole bed at the same time, legs tangled with the angels. When they're walking back to the Impala after interviewing a widow and Dean lets their fingers brush against each other.

So things are great with Cas and Dean can finally say he's happy. 

Except the sexual aspects of their relationship is nonexistent.

Dean loves sex, loves the intimacy of it, how you can have fun with it, and how you can see people in ways no one else has. Dean can admit that he's slept with hundreds of women and not be ashamed. But Dean can also admit that he's taken countless of cocks and large fingers up his ass for quick cash, and Dean doesn't quite know how to separate the desperate fucks with strangers from making love with the guy he could see himself being with the rest of his life.

Keeping his sexual energy pent up makes Dean grouchy and he snaps at Sam more than anyone. Sam would just snap right back, "Jesus Dean, just go fuck your angel already." Regardless of his almost embarrassing need to jerk off almost twice a day, Dean can't find it in himself to sleep with Cas. Dean's uncertainty and anxiety over the whole stupid thing makes Dean even more frustrated.

Castiel, of course, takes it all in stride and has the patience of someone who waited seven years for Dean to make a move.

Finally, Dean and Castiel are lounging on the couch together in the Batcave making out like horny teenagers when Dean decides dammit, he wants to fuck his friend (boyfriend?). 

"Your eyelashes are very aesthetically pleasing Dean," Castiel tells him, fingers gently sweeping over his eyes. Dean knows they're pretty long and ridiculous and apparently Castiel is now the sort of person who notices things like the way Dean's lashes settle against his cheeks when he closes his eyes. Dean's heart swells with fondness. 

"You sayin' I have girl eyes?" Dean asks, grinning before settling his face against Castiel's shoulder and lazily licking the skin he finds there before yawning.

"You require sleep," Castiel says against his hair and Dean nods. He can feel Castiel shifting, as if that's his cue to leave, but just as he's sitting up preparing to head to the room they share Dean catches him by the arm.

"Don't," he mumbles, tugging at Castiel's sleeve, trying to bring him back down to the couch. "Sleep with me tonight."

"I always stay with you while you sleep," Castiel says, tilting his head slightly and his eyes narrowing.

"Nah Cas I mean," and Dean leans up catching Castiel's lips with his own and plunging his tongue down the angel's throat in a needy, heated kiss. "I mean, sleep with me Cas."

Castiel's eyes widen in understanding and Dean smiles before dipping his face to his neck again, catching the skin he finds with his teeth.

"Are you sure Dean?" Castiel says gruffly. 

"Cas, my dick is going to explode if you don't fuck me right now. I'm ready, goddammit, I'm ready," Dean moans as his hands linger on the angel's belt.

"I will not fuck you," Castiel states with all the certainty in the world. "I am going to make love to you."

Dean groans and runs his hands through Castiel's hair and claims his lips in another kiss. Dean is so happy it scares him a little bit. Nothing good ever happens to Dean and Cas was the best thing to ever happen to him, as cheesy as it sounds.

Castiel grabs one of Dean's hands before marching them towards Dean's room. "Sam will not be pleased if we fornicate on the family room's couch."

Dean laughs and tightens his hold on Castiel's hand. They stumble towards the bedroom, pausing occasionally to kiss or when Dean pushes Cas against the wall of the hallway to nuzzle his jaw. They kiss open-mouthed and deep until they are both hard in their pants.

Slow is fine.

It's good even. It's actually pretty nice and doesn't allow Dean to freak out or go through any weird, horrifying flashbacks of being manhandled and fucked till he's bleeding.

Right this second though?

Right this second Dean is dragging Castiel's coat off his shoulders and flinging it down the hallway along with his undercoat. Right this second Dean wants to find what lies underneath the layers of stifling clothes and find out how Castiel's muscles move under his skin, what he looks like hovering over him and the sounds he makes when he comes.

"Dean," Castiel half laughs, half gasps into his shoulder. "Dean, bed. Now. Please."

Dean breathes a soft laugh into the angel's hair before turning and running towards his room, leaving Cas against the wall. Jumping into his bed, Dean barely has time to situate himself before Cas is zapping himself on top of him.

"Jesus, Cas!" Dean laughs before gasping as Castiel nips at his throat and grinds up against his thigh. Dean makes a strangled sound before raising his own hips and groaning at the slight friction. It's maddening and wonderful and the pressure in Dean's belly begins to spread its warmth throughout his whole body and Castiel's fingers are sliding eagerly up his shirt, digging into the bare skin because all of a sudden there is absolutely not enough skin involved in this equation. Dean gives himself to the touch, rolling his hips and crashing his mouth against Castiel's again with a low moan when the angel grazes a nipple. They press against each other like there is no possible way they could ever get close enough to each other.

Dean has never been so turned on in his life before and they're not even naked yet.

Castiel reaches for the hem of Dean's t-shirt, pausing to glance at his face looking for permission. Castiel must see how broken with want Dean is, for he pulls his shirt off quickly before latching his lips to Dean's collar bone. Dean pants wetly against Castiel's ear as he fumbles with the buttons of his shirt, eager to feel the warm skin hidden beneath.

"I have wanted you," Castiel gasps, "for so long. I didn't want to push you."

Dean smiles as he pushes the white dress shirt off his shoulders before cupping his face. "And thank you. That was really awesome of you. I've...wanted you too I just-"

Dean hesitates before kissing Castiel again and running his fingers down his chest and stomach. "I just haven't been close to a dude before since, you know."

"I will never take advantage of you Dean," Castiel answers solemnly. "I am willing to allow you to penetrate my anus with your penis if that is more comfortable for you."

"Jesus Cas, don't say shit like that," Dean groans as he shifts his hips. "And please, I know what I'm doing. I want you inside me. Like, right now."

Dean can't explain it, but his need to open himself up to Castiel is an urge that thrums throughout Dean's entire body and soul. It's deeply personal and intimate, and Dean realizes that this is a way he can show Castiel his complete and utter trust in him.

Castiel has shuffled downwards and is nosing at Dean's crotch. "As you wish. I am going to make this very good for you."

Dean's cock jumps in anticipation.

Castiel then reaches for Dean's belt and quickly undoes it followed by the button and zipper on Dean's jeans. Dean lifts his hips off the bed and Castiel drags the jeans down his legs by the belt loops. His briefs slide down obscenely low on his hips, barely covering him. Cas licks and gently bites at Dean's hipbones, receiving a guttural groan in response. Castiel kisses lower before he is mouthing at Dean's cock through briefs where they are already damp with precome. 

Dean gasps and twists his hips towards Castiel's mouth, fingers carding and pulling through his hair. He can't remember the last time someone took care of him like this, paid attention to him like this.

Cas pulls Dean's briefs off and his cock slaps wetly against his belly. Castiel groans at the sight of it before gently kissing and licking the inside of Dean's thighs. Dean's skin flushes darkly and the sounds coming from his mouth are obscene and nonsensical. Castiel finally licks the head of his dick softly before swallowing it down.

Dean grasps the sheets in one hand and Castiel's hair in the other, pleasure twisting and pounding its way through Dean's veins. The angel swirls his tongue around the crown and then laps at the slit before tracing his lips down the shaft. 

"God Cas," Dean pants, "how are you so good at this?"

"I am an angel of The Lord Dean," Castiel says gruffly, his lips still moving along Dean's cock. "I have studied humans for thousands and thousands of years, including their sexual behavior. It also helps that as a celestial being, I have no gag reflex."

And with that, Castiel takes his whole length into his mouth, down his throat. Dean's hips stutter and Dean moans at the sight of his cock disappearing into Castiel's pink mouth. He places a hand against the angels face, feeling his dick move in and out against Castiel's cheek before placing his fingers against his jaw and pulling him off his cock with a wet pop.

"Cas, I don't want this to be over too soon and if you keep going..." Dean trails off embarrassed.

"Of course Dean," Castiel says, kissing Dean on the lips forcing the taste of himself onto Dean's tongue.

"Take off your pants," Dean gasps.

Castiel quickly strips the rest of his clothes off, cock standing tall and proud and red. Dean licks his lips. He can't remember the last time he willingly wanted a penis in his mouth nor the last time he saw a dude's junk that made him think 'awesome.'

Dean wraps his fingers around Castiel's cock gently before slowly pumping up and down. His thumb rubs over the head and fingers the slit and the steady leaking of precome covers his hand. Castiel moans deeply, hips moving slightly into Dean's hand. 

"Dean, Dean," Castiel growls. "Let me have you. Please."

Dean grins before pulling away from Cas and turning around so he was on his hands and knees, presenting himself to the angel. He waits for the feel of Castiel against him, and flexes his back and shoulder blades a bit to show off. After a few seconds, Dean turns around impatiently.

"What's the holdup?" He drawls.

Castiel remains silent for a moment before saying hesitantly, "I thought-I want to see your face as we join together."

Dean's cheeks and chest flushes before he bows his head and turns to face Cas again.

"Yeah," he says gruffly. "We can do that."

Castiel beams at him before taking his face into his hands and kissing him deeply and lowering him to the pillows.

Dean smiles gently and widens his legs a bit so Cas can kneel between them. The angel suddenly has lube, and Dean blinks because holy shit he's never had the pleasure of lube before. Cas coats his fingers generously and then lowers his hand between Dean's legs. He circles slowly around Dean's entrance before dipping one finger inside.

Dean groans and pushes his hips down onto the finger, his body taut like a strung bow. Castiel gently moves his finger, exploring and searching Dean and then there is a second finger and Dean almost wants to tell Cas screw it, just fuck me already.

But Castiel takes his time and moves inside Dean gently and thoroughly. Dean can feel himself clenching in pleasure and his hands scrambling and twisting into the sheets beneath him. Castiel softly includes a third finger before Dean is gasping, "that's enough, that's enough I need you now. I need you!"

Castiel pulls his fingers out and Dean moans at the emptiness before he hears Cas tearing open a condom and his head jerks up.

"No Cas, I want to feel all of you, please," Dean says, his whole body flushing at the thought of Cas emptying himself inside him.

Castiel tilts his head before swooping down to kiss Dean. As their tongues tangle, Dean can suddenly feel something big and blunt pushing at his opening. Dean only tenses for a split second before his whole body gives into Castiel and relaxes. Castiel groans as he pushes in half way, lips still pressed against Dean's. He inches in slowly, as if he is afraid Dean will break, before Dean huffs impatiently and snaps his hips upward and the angel's breath stutters against Dean's mouth before pressing against his neck.

Finally, Castiel is pressed all the way into Dean. Dean feels his muscles fluttering around Castiel and he waits patiently for the angel to become used to the sensations dancing across his atoms. Castiel mouths wetly at Dean's throat before he slowly starts to move his hips. Dean moans embarrassingly loud and his hands run across Castiel's jaw, his neck, his chest, his hair. They stare into each others eyes, watching their eyes flutter shut when a particularly intense wave of pleasure hits them. 

Dean's skin is burning everywhere Castiel touches him and he feels the beginning of something big churning in his belly and groin. 

The angel starts snapping his hips with more force and faster, his rhythm starting to falter. He reaches his hand towards Dean's cock, pulling at it and running his fingers through the mess of precome that's smeared over the head and shaft and Dean's belly. 

Dean shouts when he comes, stars filling his vision and wave after wave of pleasure passes over into his very soul. Castiel thrusts a few more times before stilling and slapping a hand over Dean's eyes. A bright, blinding light fills Dean's room and he hears the crack of the light bulbs breaking. A flood of warmth crashes into Dean and a little runs down his leg. 

Finally Castiel stills and uncovers Dean's eyes. Broken glass litters the floor and a faint crack runs through the ceiling. The angel kisses Dean messily before pulling out and rolling over to lie besides Dean, their hands intertwined. . 

"Holy shit Cas,your orgasm broke my room," Dean jokes.

Castiel just nuzzles into Dean's neck and he can feel his lips moving against his skin saying over and over 'Dean, Dean, Dean...'

Dean runs his fingers through Castiel's hair. "That was awesome Cas."

"I love you Dean."

Dean pauses before grinning so big and toothy it probably looked ridiculous.

"I love you too Cas. God, I love you."


End file.
